


The Act

by Ashbear



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-19
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashbear/pseuds/Ashbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reality is sometimes the greatest script...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Act

\- The Act -

It would have been easy to follow the script, but _that _wasn't reality. Life was not scripted, penned in black in white; it was written with morbid hues of red. The blood of countless millennia woven into its fabric. He had been a SOLDIER 1st Class, a martyr, and a rebel. Then again, maybe those three were one and the same. A Trinity united for a greater cause, but the only consequence he ever saw was death.

**A finality - an end.**

The play should have been simple: follow the lines, be the hero, and rescue the girl. Then why couldn't he do it? He had always lived in the shadows of others and in the darkness of his own consciousness. He had a hard enough time trying to regain his own sanity in life; he didn't need to play the role of another.

He stood on stage next to the Knight, a legendary warrior revered through countless folklore. It was always 'the Knight' who saved the princess, not the hired mercenary. His hands were stained far beyond repentance.

He had seen the look in her eyes. She wanted him to play along so badly. But that is all he ever did, _play along_. Aerith appeared so innocent under the softened glow of the stage lamps. Maybe she played the role of Princess Rosa far better than anyone else. He was **never** the legendary hero Alfred; he was the one who adhered blindly to orders – the mercenary, the SOLDIER. To many, Cloud might have more closely mirrored the Evil Dragon King - a solitary figure searching, living off the torment of others.

'The Knight' stood on stage garnished in shining armor. It was majestic in a sardonic way. A suit so beautiful - adorned on _something_ trained to kill with implacable accuracy. Maybe this 'Knight' was just an actor, a hired worker on a stage, but to Cloud it was something far more. It represented everything that he could never be.

**A hero - a savior.**

Because of his beliefs, he could not adhere to the script. It was based on the idealistic concept that 'true love' conquers all. But what did the writers know? Had they ever been on the battle front? Had they smelled the pungent stench of death? He had. _True love_ was a myth, one that he could never obtain. He didn't have time for such pedestrian emotions. Did he?

He remembered her eyes, they were pleading. He should have been able to do this one simple favor for her. He couldn't live _this_ lie, even if it was just on stage. Let the Knight be the hero of this performance. Maybe Cloud Strife was already in a play, acting the part of somebody else in life.

The role of Knight was better left to someone else.


End file.
